


The Black Diadem

by samuelleslytherin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samuelleslytherin/pseuds/samuelleslytherin
Summary: Nigellus Rastaban was seen as a cruel man to the human race of Ladon. His daughter Alita, definitely thinks that much, when he sent her away to Mount Elven, the city of elves, to become an apprentice.Despite the elves notoriety for their unjust treatment against humans, Nigellus didn't care. He has seen the wild pain and unmistakable grief in his daughter's eyesand only wanted her to learn what only the elves could teach.Patience.Endurance.Understanding.He got more than what he bargained for when her daughter learned a dangerous thing aside from what he intended.The truth of who she is.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: THIS IS MY ORIGINAL WORK OF FICTION. EVERYTHING IS MERELY A PRODUCT OF MY IMAGINATION.

 

* * *

 

Aftersix months of hiding in the shadows of her wretched prison cell, the woman with eyes like molten silver knew that her time was coming to an end. Even the constant _plop_ of dripping water from the cracked ceiling seemed to pause as if reminding her of her already borrowed time.

Glancing down at the soft bundle in her arms, she holds the sob that tried to escape from her quivering mouth.

_The shadows can hide me no longer._

With a deep breath, she memorised all the details she could find: the wilted stacks of hay that kept her warm at night, the rusted basin filled with rainwater that washed away all the blood and vomit on certain days, the walls filled with carved figures that kept her company, the thick and impenetrable ironwood that she liked to pretend to be anything but her demise and of course, the pair of peculiar eyes that blinked owlishly at her from the bundle in her arms.

She hugged the babe a little closer to her chest, and with a soft kiss on the forehead, she murmured. "You will save us all, my child."

 

It was the last thing she remembered before the shadows took her away.

 


	2. The City of Thieves

There was something to be said about the morbid satisfaction Alita feels when she hears the unmistakable _crunch_ of a broken nose when her fist hits it just right. Even more so as she relish the feeling of the adrenaline pumping through her veins, of the heart erratically beating against her ribcage, of the blood commanding the force of her limbs to hit harder as the shouts and grunts of men tells her to _fight, fight, fight!_

She grinned madly at the man who was now nursing his broken nose with a curse and a bleeding hand. He was twice, perhaps thrice her size, with an impressive build of muscles and scars that indicates a life either of a noble warrior or a veteran criminal, which Alita thinks is more likely the latter, considering how this brawl started in the first place. The moment his filthy hand closed around her butt with a rakish laugh was also the moment she stabbed her knife to the other hand resting quite unknowingly on the table besides his oversized mug of beverage.

"You bitch!", he lunged at her again, quite wildly this time, as the fight has been going on for about roughly five minutes and so five minutes of him bleeding around the decrepit, dingy tavern full of brutes who did nothing to help even as the stabbed hand was followed by a couple more of painful injuries ever since then.

She reprimanded him with a pronounced _tsk_ as she mindlessly avoided the hit. "You shouldn't have disrespected me you know"

"Isn't that why you came here for you little slut?", the man practically growled with venom. "No lady comes to this place with the intention of getting respect, only looking to be screwed like an animal"

He was probably true, Alita reasoned out, but it did nothing to stop the blinding rage that made her bones tremble with restraint. "So it gives you the right to touch a woman without her permission?"

"Why would I need—", he was stopped from speaking however, which was a blessing in disguise because Alita was certain whatever he was about to utter next would only make her kill him, when the crowd consisting of thieves, assassins, pirates, _criminals_ were suddenly deathly quiet at the entrance of a man in the room.

Those criminals don't shut their mouths just for anyone.

Feeling her fiery rage snuffed out by dread, Alita turned to look towards the dark man at the entrance of the place looking positively livid. She set her mouth into a grim line, knowing she could say nothing to ease that look of fury marring the beautiful face of her brother. Suddenly, the adrenaline rush she felt turned to anxiety, her heart seemed to pause, her blood seemed to stop flowing and her knees almost wobbled. She bit her tongue hard, tasting blood, to avoid showing this weakness in front of him.

"Alita", he murmured softly, although everyone heard it. The men in the room went still at the name. The brute with the bleeding hand collapsed to the floor on his knees, body trembling with fear.

He walked towards her with a fluid grace she spent all her life trying to mimic, but never seemed to grasp. He was, indeed, deathly beautiful. Even after all these years she can never fathom how the flickering torchlight made his bronze skin glow, how his mane of chocolate curls seemed so tamed despite its waves, how the arch of his brows seemed to accentuate the embodiment of sunset that is his eyes, how his lips seemed so feminine despite the scowl marring it. Samael Rastaban looked nothing like her and she hated it.

_You will never be my sister. You will never be my sister. You will never—_

"Father is requesting you presence", he spoke again when he was only but a feet away. Despite being only a year older, he towered over her, and that was saying a lot because Alita was tall herself. She couldn't stop the scoff, however, that escaped her at the word _requesting_. They both know their father never request for anything in his life. He demands it.

"I'm afraid I'm busy at the moment, brother", she replied casually, or atleast she hoped it was casual enough.

Sam scanned the crowd with distaste and anyone who meets his eye looks away immediately. His gaze landed on the man kneeling on the floor, taking in the detail of his broken nose, bruised cheeks, and bleeding hand. The man visibly flinched. Alita thought it was pathetic, yet she couldn't blame him. Everyone knows who Sam is, and now that they knew her name, knows her as well. They were the children of the Lord of Rastaban, and they were deadly, especially the wrath of their father.

"What keeps you here?", he asked.

She smiled. "I was in the middle of teaching this man a lesson about respecting ladies"

"This is not a place for women Alita", he drawled languidly, trying to stifle his anger as he took out a pristine white cloth and handed it to her. "You should've known better"

She snatched the cloth and wiped the blood that she now felt on her lips as the adrenaline fully subsided away. "It is not an excuse for disrespect Samael"

"Then I'll kill him and be done with it"

"No! Please! I'm sorry my lord", the man grovelled. "I didn't know who she was!"

Alita sighed in resignation. She may take pleasure in pummeling assholes, but she was no killer. Although her brother definitely has no qualms about it. She grabbed his hand and dragged him outside before he could do anything. Leaving the humid and smelly tavern, the chilly breeze that greeted her was a relief, raising goosebumps on her skin. She must've lost track of time, as the sun was completely gone now when it was just about to set when she entered the place.

Lights started flickering on, and the city's grand central bonfire was being rapidly lit by the people to drive away the nightly cold that wraps around Rastaban when the sun's out. The vendors are also starting to set up their stalls for the night market and an undistinguishable chatter was slowly filling upon the place.

Rastaban, the City of Thieves, was the most notorious city in all of Ladon, not because the place is full of thieves as the name might suggest otherwise, but because the place itself is known to _rob_ you of many things: Your breath, when you gaze upon the lush, giant mountains surrounding the city like a mother's embrace. Your voice, when you witness the mighty, unrelenting waterfalls feeding the city with life like a mother's milk. Your senses, when night descends and the lights of a billion stars lures you into a sense of an unexplainable feeling of being home at last.

Some says its magic, others say it's some form of sorcery, but Alita simply thinks it has always been that way even before humans came to dwell on it.

Living here her whole life never seemed to take away the wonder at the thought that this is her home, that one day Samael will take over their father and she will rule besides him. That she was lucky enough to be given the chance to rule in the first place, to call this magnificent place home, when she was nothing but an orphan adopted by the Lord of Rastaban. Thinking about her family, however, shook her out of her reverie and she was painfully reminded of her brother's presence when he yanked his arm away from her grasp, as if burned.

She bit her cheeks this time to numb the sting of his obvious rejection.

Without a word, Samael walked briskly towards the tavern stables and mounted on his horse. He glared at her harshly. "You have already wasted enough of my time, don't bother escaping. The thing father have to discuss with you is urgent."

"Do you have any idea what is it about?", she stayed where she stood defiantly, not bothering to walk towards the other horse Samael must've brought with him for her to ride on. He's done this a hundred of times. He's always been the one sent by their father to find her when she escapes the manor. He has learned enough to know that she never leaves with a horse and it was the first and last he let her ride with him when he first discovered she always went out on foot.

His hatred shone vibrantly in his eyes. "No. _Move_ , Alita, or I'll drag you back to the house"

Seeing that he was becoming seriously pissed, Alita mounted her own horse without another word and went to follow Sam already riding rapidly through the streets, not bothering with the people who scrambled away from their obviously livid young lord.

They arrived in no time at the manor. Although calling it manor is an understatement, the building was more of a palace, but Alita doesn't like to dwell long enough on her house, so she silently followed her brother to the stables and to the grand staircase, up to the double french doors made from a wood so dark it was almost black that indicates their father's study. Barging in without a knock, Samael announced their presence with a harsh tone. "She's here"

Nigellus Rastaban was a rougher, more roguish version of his son but they were both similar in so many of their mannerisms that it was impossible to deny the parental connection. The only difference is that he looked at Alita with a fondness that was the opposite of his son's hatred. He was a man in his prime, with a few streaks of silver in his hair that only made him more exotic. The humans in Ladon knew him and they were afraid. They have every right to be. Nigellus was a great man, but not a good one. He was sitting on a simple wooden chair, with his back turned to them. Gazing silently at the floor to ceiling windows that showed a magnificent view of the city below, it was after a while that he spoke.

"I'm sending you away"

There was a _crack_ that sounded awfully like her heart breaking apart.


End file.
